


But nobody came. — Seven Vignettes

by pseudosocial_media



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abandonment, Adorable Papyrus, Agony, Anger, Angst, Betrayal, Blood, Body Horror, Broken Bones, Chaptered, Child Death, Death, Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Existential Horror, Existentialism, FOMO, Fear, First Dates, Gen, Gender-Neutral Frisk, Grief/Mourning, Happstablook - Freeform, Harm to Children, Hatred, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Insanity, Loneliness, Loss, Loss of loved ones, Memory Loss, Mettaton EX, Motherhood, Murder, Music, OC as plot device, Paranoia, Psychological Horror, Rejection, Sad, Sad Papyrus, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Sacrifice, Self-Worth Issues, Some fun little flavor text references, Suicide, Vignette, Violence, Wingdings - Freeform, accidental violence, new home, reputation, thematic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-04 14:58:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5338343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudosocial_media/pseuds/pseudosocial_media
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven significant members of the Underground at their lowest points.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Toriel

The funeral was held on a Sunday. When she got home, she took the calendar down from the wall. There was no need for it any longer.

She looked into the mirror in the hall. Despite everything, it was still her. She looked very tired. She did not look too long — there would be plenty of time later. Now, she would see the same face forever.

She laid down to stare at the wall. The house was too big and too empty and too silent to face. The wallpaper by her bed looked faded. She had chosen it because it seemed cheery, but now it looked ugly. Depressing. Morbid. She did not get back out of bed until late Friday.

On Saturday, she made a pie. It was butterscotch. It had been both her sons’ favorite. This thought made her begin to cry and she let it bake too long. She decided to throw the ashes on her garden. They smelled like death when she released them into the air.

On Wednesday, her husband told her his plan. He would get revenge. He would kill more innocent souls. She wanted to scream at him, but she could not. She told him she was leaving.

“Be reasonable,” he called as she was walking out the door. Reasonable, he said. He wanted to commit genocide after they and the world had already lost so much and _he_ wanted _her_ to be reasonable. She stood there, fuming, as he approached her back. Then she whirled around and slapped him. She had never done anything like that before.

She did not see him again before she left.

She did not find a home at first. She wandered around, carrying nothing but a packet of seeds. She slept outside and anyone who encountered her knew well enough to leave her alone. She missed her chair. She missed her garden. She missed her sock drawer.

She missed her sons.

She built herself a new home. She wasn’t sure why she chose the spot she did, but the feeling of _rightness_ was too much to ignore. She had learned to trust her intuitions when they came. When her new home was finished it was just like her old one, but empty. She bought a new chair and put it in the same place as the old one. She built one room she kept empty and locked. She decided to leave her past inside — it only seemed appropriate. She marked the room ‘under renovations.’ She never planned to enter it again — much less to make any alterations to it — but the label was fitting nonetheless.

One week later, she began to take walks. She’d never done that before, but now she couldn't seem to resist. She would hum to herself, strolling aimlessly across the landscape. The contemplative quiet that surrounded her made her closer to happy than she’d been in a while. She had always liked thinking by herself, without the interruption of a conversation to maintain. She found it calming.

She explored the area around her house, walking in wider and wider circles, until her new home became just an indistinct spot in the distance. Sometimes, she would wander all day. The more she walked without intention or purpose, the clearer her mind became.

Two weeks later, on a Sunday, she found the flowers. They practically glowed golden, brilliant and perfectly still, their heads turned upwards as if basking in the light and warmth. The air around them smelled earthy and strangely sweet. She looked up, and she saw the brilliant spot from which the shaft of light filtered down on the lonesome flower patch. It was a hole in the surface. Now she knew why she built her house where she had. She had never been to this flower patch before, but she knew what it was. She knew the gift this spot had given her.

She prayed it would give another.

On Monday, she returned the same way she had come before and sat with her legs folded under her and her hands on her knees, waiting, by the spot. She kept her eyes fixed on the light and hoped someone would descend. She did not move at all for several hours.

On Tuesday, she made a beeline for the spot, remembering where it was without the use of her previous path. She brought a watering can and tended to the flowers. She emptied the water onto them and pulled a few stray weeds away from the stems to which they clung. Then, she sat and waited by the spot. She kept her eyes hopeful and fixed upwards, towards the light. Without even realizing, she clutched the weeds tightly and twisted them apart.

On Wednesday, she waited, walking in slow circles around the plants.

On Thursday, she waited.

On Friday, she waited.

She waited by that spot every day for weeks, for years, for lifetimes.

Eventually, she stopped going to the spot regularly. Some days she would wake up sure that she would soon get what she needed and she would rush to wait by the spot, but some days she kept her wits about her and tempered her imagination. Still, she constantly held out hope that one day soon she would receive her visitor, her child. In the meantime, she baked. She kept a room ready for when they would arrive. She read every book she had twice. She never gave up. She needed the child to arrive. She needed the child. She needed them to come to her, so she could keep them safe. She could be their mother, as she was meant to be. She could keep them safe from the world outside. She was certain they would arrive any day.

But nobody came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Toriel.
> 
> Not all of the vignettes will be as soul-crushingly sad is this one. The next one is actually the lightest of the seven, so there's that to look forward to.


	2. Papyrus

The time had almost arrived. The human would be at the house soon. Papyrus had never been more excited for anything, ever. He had gotten a friend and a date, all in the same day! Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine he could achieve both so quickly one right after the other, with or without his greatness. Sometimes he even impressed himself.

To pass the time, he tidied up as best he could. He mopped in the kitchen. He washed the windows. He used a rag to wipe of the baseboards around the downstairs. He’d never noticed how dusty they could get before. After a moment’s hesitation, he left Sans’ sock. It wasn’t his responsibility to clean up after his brother. Maybe the human would think he was even more responsible when his level of tidiness was compared to his brother’s.

Papyrus had never been on a date before. He wasn’t quite sure how the interaction worked. He was counting on the human knowing what to do. Of course they would — they were perhaps a little on the small side, but other than that seemed entirely capable and worldly. He was sure they’d have the experience required to have a truly exceptional good time, and he would watch closely and pick up on all of their clues.

He prepared his cool clothes. No matter what, he knew it was a necessity to dazzle the human with his impeccable fashion sense. Then the human would be ensured to continue to want to be his friend. As he donned the clothes then replaced his outer armor over them, he mentally congratulated himself for such intelligent and useful foresight.

He fretted for a while longer, scanning the perimeters of the house for any sign of disarray, inspecting the rugs for dust and the corners for spider webs, but found nothing more to fix. Not knowing what else to do, he began walking in small circles, rubbing his hands together, every few seconds glancing at the clock hanging just above the front door.

An hour passed. The human was late. Papyrus wondered were they were. He hoped they hadn’t gotten lost. The roads to and from Snowdin could be difficult to traverse, especially with all the puzzles he had set up.

Another hour. Papyrus, restless, began to pace. He had no doubt they would arrive soon. Perhaps they would need a lesson in being timely to important interactions. He decided he would spend the time until they arrived preparing one.

Two hours later, he had a beautiful slideshow and lecture planned, but no audience. Where could the human be? Papyrus wondered if he should search for them. He decided that would seem too clingy. Instead, he decided to deliver his presentation to Sans.

Sans didn’t comment on the quality of Papyrus’ presentation or delivery, but instead produced a stream of bad jokes about it. Papyrus left his room frowning, notecards in hand.

The human was officially four hours late. Papyrus considered rejecting their affection when they finally arrived, but decided it wasn’t worth the risk of losing his friend. He tapped his foot impatiently, standing right before the door.

Just then, there was a knock.

Papyrus excitedly threw the door open, not quite sure what he would say to the human. He wasn’t angry with them anymore; he was just relieved they’d shown up.

But it wasn’t the human on the other side of the door. It was Sans. He had been in the basement and left through the back door and couldn’t get in. Papyrus didn’t really concentrate on his explanation.

Sans slid past him into the house and up to his room, shutting the door behind him. Papyrus resumed waiting.

He eventually sat down and began polishing his armor. He had found at a young age that this activity calmed him and kept him happy. He had dreamed of being a part of the royal guard since he was young, and he knew the guard kept their armor impeccable at all times — in times of war as well as in times of peace, appearance was vital to keeping up morale (not to mention anyone who was as great as Papyrus simply _needed_ impeccable armor by virtue of their stature). He had always cleaned his himself — he even taught himself how. It was a point of pride for him as well as a comfort. He decided when the human showed up he would show them how to do it. He was sure they’d like that.

But now the human was officially more than five hours late. Papyrus hoped he hadn’t given them the wrong address. He hoped they would have the sense to ask around if they couldn't find their way. His name was on his mailbox. It was hard to miss. They would see it if they walked by.

He wanted to text Undyne to ask if she had seen the human, but he realized if she had then she was probably still with them and if they somehow saw his message on her phone they might think he was needy. He set his phone down and mentally congratulated himself for such astute foresight — it was not a quality he usually possessed.

He didn’t have anything else to do, so he simply waited. He waited and waited and would not give up hope that the human would arrive and they would go on their date and they would begin a wonderful and legendary friendship that would last for as long as it was possible for a friendship to last. Of course it would happen. It had to. All that needed to happen was for the human to show up and knock on the door, and everything would be alright. He waited for them for hours upon hours.

But nobody came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was difficult to write. I showed this to my ex, and his reaction was "ouch, that's painful." Sorry, Papyrus.
> 
> This is the lightest overall chapter in the work. I consider it such because it spends much more time on the jokes than the sadness or horror. It's all downhill from here.
> 
> The next chapter is a little longer, and much, much darker than this one. Buckle your seat belts for that one in a few days.


	3. Mettaton

When he awoke, he didn’t feel whole.

He recognized the upper deck of the laboratory. The building was empty. He was plugged into a wall socket, in the corner by the folding bed.

At first he didn’t remember what had happened. He thought he had left the Laboratory. He was chasing… something. Alphys had him chasing something. Someone? He thought it was someone. He ached. He ached all over. He wasn’t supposed to ache. What was hurting?

He looked down and he saw the remains of his body and he remembered.

It was his new form, but it was mangled. He had no limbs. What had happened to his legs? He did not yet remember. It was only coming back in pieces.

He had locked Alphys out. Why had he done that? He didn't remember. Yes, he did. She had already done too much. He was putting an end to it. Was she angry with him? Clearly not — no one else would have known to plug him in.

The child… he had wanted to kill the child. He wanted to save everyone. He wanted to be a star. He did not remember which he had wanted more. What had happened to the child? They bested him. He didn't remember anything after that.

He had his body. It was what he had always wanted. Blooky would be so proud.

Then he remembered Blooky’s phone call. He hadn’t thanked him. He needed to call. He realized he couldn't hold a phone. He didn’t know what to do.

The child had bested him, but he knew the world was in good hands. They would be able to save it. They would be able to save everyone.

Where was everyone? There were no sounds of voices outside or downstairs. Looking closer at the floor, he saw a layer of dust. He was alone. Where had they gone? Why had they forgotten him? Had he been forgotten entirely?

No. Impossible.

With some difficulty, he tilted his torso until he flopped to the ground. He barely twisted his head in time to avoid breaking his nose. Instead, he hit his cheekbone hard on the concrete. He wondered if it would bruise. The dust flew up around him and made him sneeze.

He knew exactly where Alphys kept her phone on her desk. If he could lean his weight on her chair, he might be able to reach it. His face was towards the desk. He took a deep breath, and began to roll. His plug disconnected from the wall but stayed firmly plugged into the small of his back. The block that connected to the wall got trapped under his hip every time he rolled. It was uncomfortable, but it didn't really hurt until the time it dug into the soft part on the inside of his pelvis. The sharp corner dug in and he hissed. He didn’t know if he was bleeding and he couldn’t exactly check, but the pain was nearly unbearable. He turned so his other side was pressing against the floor and panted for a minute, then gritted his teeth and kept rolling.

He reached the desk. The blue chair loomed above him like a cold, unforgiving monolith. He took a moment to catch his breath before moving. He could lean on the chair and grab the receiver with his teeth. After that he just had to dial Alphys’ cell phone number with his nose. Then he’d know what was going on. He hoped she would pick up.

He had never done a sit up before, but he was sure he’d be able to. He grimaced as he flexed his stomach, pulling his head and chest up off the ground. He lowered himself down, panting. He hadn’t been able to go any further. He paused for a moment, then lifted himself in one swift motion, using his momentum to take him the rest of the way. He teetered dangerously for a moment, getting the unpleasant tingling that comes when one is ever-so-slightly off balance in the bridge of his nose and all along his spine, then he leaned forward and rested his chin on the seat of the chair, allowing it to share some of his weight. He was absolutely still for about ten seconds, trying to catch his breath, beads of sweat rolling down his face.

Then the chair rolled away from him.

His face slammed into the ground, and this time he heard the _crunch_ and felt the warm pooling liquid and knew that his nose was broken. The pain hit him a moment later, and he emitted an animalistic groan. He was humiliated and he was in agony. He wanted to give up and just lie there until his batteries ran out. But he needed to know everything was alright first.

He raised his head and looked up. The chair had hit the far wall and stopped. It seemed so far away. The desk loomed above him, seeming insurmountable. He was on the side with three drawers stacked vertically under the top. To his right was the space that chair would be pushed in. He wasn’t sure what to do.

It was pretty much impossible to breathe through his mangled nose, so he opened his mouth. The blood, however, poured over his upper lip and into it, and made him cough. He rolled onto his back and arced his neck so his Adam’s Apple poked into the air. He knew it was best to tilt one’s head back and pinch one’s nose while in a sitting position to stem bleeding, but he figured it was the best he could do under these circumstances.

The top of his head rested against the base of the desk. He looked up through the holes between the handles and the faces of the drawers. From this perspective, they looked something like the rungs of a ladder.

He realized what he had to do.

The bleeding had slowed down. He flipped over onto his stomach and inched slightly farther away from the desk. He could see the lowest drawer handle as a blur now if he crossed his eyes. He estimated it was about an inch and a half above his eye level. He steeled himself for what he was about to do.

Then he pressed the bottom of his torso against the ground and pushed off, rearing his head and chest up and forward, and caught the handle in between his teeth. The shock of the impact reverberated through his face, but he held on.

The metal was cold. It was not a pleasant feeling. He shifted slightly and felt his teeth grind on it. He made a small whining sound, then resolved to ignore it as best he could. He had to work quickly, before he lost his grip.

He arched his back, keeping the bottom of his torso planted on the floor, pulling the drawer out of the column. He heard a squeaking sound and felt the strain on his teeth, but he kept going. He repeated the motion. The drawer was about a quarter of the way out. He pulled it out a little further.

He felt one of his teeth break.

He screamed but did not let go. A curtain of tears blinded him and his whole body spasmed from the pain. The drawer came out further and he slid to the ground, weeping, and curled into a fetal position as best he could. He had never experienced this level of pain. He wasn’t designed for it. He had never imagined he could feel as bad as he did in that moment. He did not move for a long time.

Eventually, with tears still streaming down his face, he managed to pull himself up and rest his chin on the lip of the drawer. When he saw that it was full to the brim with stacks of paper, he thanked whatever higher power was momentarily smiling on him.

He thrust his head forward so his shoulders were on the edge, then shimmied — _good thing I can dance,_ he thought, and began to cry anew — until his entire torso was resting on the paper. Then, he forced himself up to rest his chin on the top of the desk.

The phone was missing.

It was always resting on this corner. Never once had he seen Alphys move it — it was a cell phone, but she never took it anywhere. She almost never _went_ anywhere. Where had it gone? With a moan of despair, he allowed himself to fall back to the ground. He was too upset to care about the pain that shocked through his left hip when it connected it to the floor. What could have happened? Who had removed the phone?

It occurred to him that Alphys might have left him a message on her computer, to tell him where she had gone. Perhaps to tell him when she would be back.

With this fresh hope giving him a burst of energy, he rolled his way over to the escalator to reach the large computer screen downstairs. Surely it held the answers. There was no other way.

He did not plan how to descend the escalator. He rolled right over the edge and began bouncing down the steps. Every time he hit one, the breath was forced out of him. His side hit a corner at a bad angle and he felt his rib snap. His body was jostled around as if he were being tossed by the hands of an angry crowd until he finally, blissfully, slammed into the floor at the bottom and let go of consciousness.

He floated.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid like that, but when he awoke, the blood on his face was dry and the pain in his side was dull and throbbing. It woke up readily, however, when he began to roll to the computer. This time, he remembered his state as soon as he awoke. He needed to make sure everything was alright.

On his way, he remembered the final part. Their battle had been televised. He saw the best ratings he’d ever had that night. The glory! The audience ate it all up and kept coming back for more. The memory of that glowing hour was almost enough to allow him to forget his agony. He had finally gotten the recognition he deserved, thanks to the child.

No wonder he’d let them go.

He reached the computer screen and wobbled his way up to a vertical position. He was getting quite good at that. He used his chin to nudge the mouse and wake the computer up.

When the screen lit up, he expected to see a note from Alphys, likely just plain text explaining where she was and what he should do until she got back.

Instead, he saw a set of statistics. It was the ratings for his show.

He didn't know what he expected, but he was shocked to find he had been plugged in for three weeks. His ratings had been dropping like stones — four people had tuned in the week previous.

He looked at the time.

He was set to be on in thirty seconds.

He saw the light of the camera above the screen blink on. This was what he had used in the beginning, before he’d been able to build the big fancy sets outside of the lab. Alphys had let him use her webcam. He had no idea it still worked.

He had no time to clean up or to hide his injuries. He had no time to prepare. He just had to wing it. He couldn't afford to lose any more fans. How had this happened? This cosmic coincidence seemed too bizarre to be true. He didn't have time to think about it.

Three, two, one.

“Welcome back everybody! It’s good to see so many people tuning in this evening, as always…” He intentionally did not look at the video monitor screen. He did not want to know what he looked like in that moment. Instead, he kept one nervous eye on the ratings, not caring much what it was that came out of his mouth. If one person tuned in, if one person saw that he was _there_ , he was going _nowhere_ , he could have it all back. Word of mouth was the most powerful advertising. All it would take was one single bored soul tuning into the right channel to give him everything, all he had ever dreamed of, once again. That was all he needed.

But nobody came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is where that Graphic Violence warning comes in.
> 
> Well, this was very difficult to write, for obvious reasons. This is the one with the MOST explicit violence, and the only one that dwells on it for most of its length. I promise.
> 
> I intentionally left the exact situation ambiguous — originally, this was going to be after a True Pacifist ending where (ignoring the credits) Mettaton isn't present with the other characters. It made me wonder what would happen if it took him long enough to charge that he completely missed the memo and was left behind. I then realized this could also happen in any neutral ending where Alphys isn't in the picture by the end. So, I guess it's up to you.
> 
> Also, in my mind, Mettaton is an organic being — the metal is just a shell. If Alphys can distill determination, she can make a robot of flesh. So, that's why he can be injured in the ways he gets injured. Additionally, though he is the Underground's only TV personality, I find it hard to envision enough monsters being into TV that he would be called an "A-lister" in our world, which is why he's so desperate to regain the ratings Frisk gave him in the boss fight — they were beyond his wildest dreams (I forget if that's actually cannon or not and I can't check back right now, but that's my explanation).
> 
> This may or may not be the longest chapter because I may or may not be finished writing all of them. Because this one is more that twice as long as the other two, I'll probably give it a little more time before releasing the next part. That'll probably come out in three or four days. It'll be lighter than this, don't worry, but I'd say it'll be the last entry about which I can say that. So, look forward to that soon!


	4. Napstablook

It didn’t sound right. There was too much bass. Napstablook turned the gain down, and it began to sound slightly better.

And why were they crying again? There was no one around. There was no one there to be better than them. They had no reason to feel so bad about themself. Yet, they did.

The music wasn’t sounding right. Napstablook sighed and moved away from the computer. They kept their headphones on, though. They found them comforting.

They turned on the TV. Blank static. They had missed Mettaton’s show. Or maybe they had tuned in too early. In any case, it wasn’t on. They sighed and turned the TV back off. 

Napstablook missed their cousin. He hadn’t called once since he became Mettaton. Napstablook supposed he was probably too busy to remember to, but it hurt anyway. They missed being called Blooky. They pretended they hated it, but it always had made them glow a little inside in a way most things couldn't. They didn't want to inconvenience anyone by making them remember a nickname, though, so they never brought it up to anyone else. They just hoped one day Mettaton would remember them so they could hear it again.

Napstablook lay on the floor and felt pathetic. It was their favorite pastime. They figured it probably wasn’t healthy, but they didn't really care. There were plenty of worse things they could enjoy, if they ever worked up the motivation.

For the time being, they stared at the pathetic ceiling. They swept their gaze across the familiar cracks and stains. Who knew how they got there. They didn't see anything new, so they turned their eyes and looked around their pathetic house. They saw the fridge, the TV, the computer on its desk blocking the window, their three CDs, and the spiderweb. There was no spider there, and there hadn’t been for a long time. Nothing new. Nothing interesting. Everything pathetic.

After a while, they got back up and returned to the computer. They played the song they had ben working on back again. They adjusted the reverb on the melody track. They liked it a little better. Not much, though.

They decided to get on their favorite music sharing forum. When it finally loaded, however, they found that no one had posted anything new since they last checked. They logged back off with a sigh.

They had gone to see a doctor once. Their cousin had made them. He said he didn’t want them to feel so bad all the time. They didn't mind feeling bad, but they went because they loved their cousin and they liked it when he was happy.

They couldn't remember the doctor’s name, but they could still see her face. It had been a friendly face, one full of genuine concern. She had asked them a couple of questions, and then had stepped out of the room to speak with their cousin. Napstablook had never been to see a doctor before, so they didn't know what to make of that. While they waited, they had looked around the room — it contained two chairs and a couch, a desk with stacks of paper on it, and a bookshelf that was about half full of thick volumes with titles that Napstablook didn't understand.

The doctor had returned and told them that she was giving a preliminary diagnosis of acute depression and that she wanted them to return for a follow-up so she could go over their medical history with them and give them antidepressants, which she said would make them feel better.

Napstablook said that they would go back, but they never did. They didn't mind feeling they way they did — they had never felt any other way. They weren’t even sure how and figured they probably wouldn’t be very good at it. 

A bright light filled their house. They heard a knock on the door. They didn't turn at first — they felt a strange apprehension.

The knock came again, more insistent. Napstablook didn't know who it could be. No one ever visited. They weren’t worth visiting.

The knocking did not come again, but the light remained and Napstablook knew that whatever it was that was visiting them was still outside. They felt afraid in a way they hadn’t felt afraid ever before — they didn't really scare easy and had only ever actually been frightened when someone jumped at them. This was a more primal fear, one that made them quake and gave them a near-irresistible urge to run in the opposite direction.

They made a snap decision. They would not open the door. Instead, they rushed to close the blinds. They were careful not to peek at the stoop — they sensed it would be dangerous even to see what was there. The curtains didn't block the light entirely, but they would do. Napstablook returned to their computer. They pulled up their mix and began working.

Compression up. Gain down. The presence was still there.

They experimented with the Fader slider and didn't really hear a difference. The light still filtered through the curtains.

At last, they saw the room get slightly darker and knew that the presence had given up and left. They immediately regretted leaving it out there — they must be missing out on something now.

They latched onto that thought. The presence was clearly inviting them to something and now they wouldn't get to go. They had spoiled their chance. Surely everyone in the Underground was going to be there.

They hoped that maybe the light would return. They dismissed the apprehension they had felt about it before as just social nervousness. The doctor said that was the label for what they felt when talking to people, right before she had given the final diagnosis. It had ben something he had been trying to get over. He had failed. But if the light had second thoughts, then they might have a second chance. They hoped that would happen and they kept one eye on the door as they continued mixing.

But nobody came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Napstablook is one of my favorite characters in the entire game, which is why he's here.
> 
> I also wanted to include a vignette where the character is (unknowingly) not worse off at the end or nearly avoided a worse situation instead of running headlong into it (also, yay for dramatic irony).
> 
> The reason I don't consider this one to be as light as the Papyrus one is because Napstablook is depressed, and that's something I take very seriously and find very sad.
> 
> Anyway, the next one will appear in a couple days, and it's going to be weird. So there's that to look forward to.


	5. W.D. Gaster

DARK DARKER YET DARKER

IT IS COLD IT IS RAINING SOMEWHERE NOT HERE

WITHOUT A TRACE

WITHOUT A

without a trace

I AM THE MAN WHO SPEAKS IN HANDS

SHATTERED ACROSS TIME AND

reset

THE DARKNESS KEEPS GROWING

THE SHADOWS CUTTING DEEPER

deeper deeper DEEPER

I AM THE FALLEN WITHOUT A TRACE WITHOUT A TRACE WITHOUT A

FELL INTO HIS CREATION AND HIS LIFE WAS CUT

reset

PHOTON READINGS NEGATIVE

THIS NEXT EXPERIMENT

Please don't think about this anymore.

everything functions perfectly without you

EVERYTHING FUNCTIONS PERFECTLY WITHOUT YOU

reset

Will Alphys end up the same way? 

reset

I am Gaster. I am no one. I am shattered. I am afraid.

It's raining somewhere else. Not here. The band plays on.

Do not wonder what happens when you are gone. For what you ask you seek answers, and the truth may drive you insane.

INSANE

I am the man who speaks in hands, for I have no mouth.

I am the man who is saturated with determination, though I have no body.

I am the man who watches with no eyes, who hears with no ears, who knows with no mind.

I am not.

When I fell I was torn apart. I felt my bones rending and my flesh melting in the power. Then I did not feel. I heard all and I saw all and I knew all but I felt none.

I was gone. No one knew me. They remembered, but they did not mourn. No one mourns for someone who was not.

I watched as they built over me. I did not blame her.

I listened and I believed they had forgotten me. I did not blame him.

But some looked for me. Some searched through the strands of being of this world and they found my pieces. They could not put them together, but they spoke. They spoke of me.

They spoke of me.

it's rude to talk about someone who's listening

It's rude to talk about someone who's listening.

IT'S RUDE TO TALK ABOUT SOMEONE WHO'S LISTENING

reset

but it refused

RESET. 

VERY VERY INTERESTING. 

WHAT DO YOU THINK?

I am the man who speaks in hands. 

It is raining somewhere else. Not here. 

Please try to forget about me. 

but nobody came. 

BUT NOBODY CAME. 

AND NOBODY WILL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to hide the Wingdings (and why wouldn't you? Gaster has a lot to say and they make up the majority of the vignette), you can click the "Hide Creator Style" button at the top of the page.
> 
> So, as it turns out, being ripped from existence is rather taxing on one's sanity.
> 
> This is the shortest vignette, but it's also (in my opinion) the most dense. There's a lot of experimentation with ambiguous implications. It was a lot of fun to write.
> 
> The next one will be out in a couple days. It was probably the most taxing to write out of all of them.


	6. Alphys

##### 

I – It’s so cold.

It was feeding time and they were very hungry. Alphys had the food — she had double-checked there was enough for all of them — and was passing it out. They all seemed happy to sense her. Why were they happy? It was unnerving, but they were unnerving in general so she didn't put too much thought into it.

_thats what they all say be seeing you but nobody_

She tried to ignore their garbled shouting. Their cries always made her feel guilty. She hated feeding time.

The one that occasionally looked like a bird was acting up. She gave it a little extra food, hoping it would help. It began to scream and she left quickly.

She set the food at the end of the hallway for the one in the bathtub. It wouldn’t eat if she came too close — it was a shy one. She couldn’t even remember what it looked like. Her task complete, she returned to the elevator.

As she neared the vending machine, something caught her eye. There was a piece of paper in the trashcan. She stopped and stared at it for a moment. Nobody else came down here. Who would have put it there? She fished it out and saw there was writing on the other side. She flipped the paper over and read the words.

##### 

ii – Then hold still.

It had been a good day. Alphys had awoken with a smile on her face for reasons she couldn't quite put her finger on. She just felt fearless. Nothing could go wrong that day.

The human had been moving incredibly quickly. She estimated they would arrive within twelve hours. She needed to clean up. She skittered around briefly, retrieving some of the trash littered around the floor before remembering to get an update on the human’s progress.

Alphys booted up her computer monitor and the face filled their screen. The features blown up to such a huge size had shocked her at first, but after several days it had stopped fazing her. She zoomed out to try to get an idea of their surroundings. It looked like they were just exiting the caves. She had more time than she thought.

She decided to take a break and check her social media. She wrote a new tweet: _“Super excited!”_ and posted it. Scrolling down her feed, she saw a funny picture posted by Sans. She took a screenshot and sent it to Undyne, grinning and biting her lip as she waited for a response.

She continued monitoring the human, swinging back and forth in her swivel chair. She wondered where Mettaton was. She could never keep track of him anymore.

She checked her phone. Undyne hadn't responded yet. That was strange. She was usually very prompt. Alphys decided not to worry about it too much. Sometimes life just got busy and you couldn't respond to texts immediately. That was perfectly reasonable.

She and Undyne had grown closer recently. Alphys was grateful for that. She’d had a crush on Undyne for a long time, but she’d always had to see her from afar. But Undyne had approached _her_ and begun a conversation. She had been so nervous her words were almost incomprehensible as she stuttered her way through that first interaction, but amazingly Undyne seemed to like her. They had started talking regularly.

She had no illusions. She knew Undyne would never be interested in her. Undyne was too cool and she was simply not. And anyway, she was clearly straight. Alphys had trouble imagining her as anything else.

Of course, that didn't mean she didn’t try.

She made herself some instant noodles. She resisted checking her phone until she had eaten them all. She didn’t want to act clingy, even though she was alone. Someone might judge her, anyway. She’d never been very good at keeping secrets.

As soon as she set the new bowl on top of the stack — she really needed to do the dishes — she whipped out her phone to check the screen. Muffet had favorited her tweet, but there was no new text from Undyne.

After a moment’s consideration, she slowly typed “what’s up?” and pressed send. To her relief, a new timestamp appeared above it. She didn't look desperate.

She set the phone on the corner of her desk out of habit, but immediately picked it up and put it back in her pocket. She wanted to have it with her when Undyne replied.

She sat down to watch her favorite anime. She told herself to make it through one episode before checking her phone. She had seen it before and didn't really pay attention to the action. It was a diversion — she would admit that to herself. As soon as the credits sequence began, she checked the screen. Nothing.

Was Undyne ignoring her? Why would she? Had she done something wrong? Thinking back, Alphys couldn't remember anything that would warrant the silent treatment. She had been so careful.

She began to get distressed. They had such a good friendship and she didn't want to lose Undyne. She knew she was overreacting, but wasn’t finding it easy to calm herself.

Just then, her phone began to ring. She snatched it and eagerly checked the screen. But it wasn’t Undyne calling, it was Papyrus. After a moment, she picked it up.

“Hey, Papyrus. What’s up? Actually, hey, have you seen—“

“Alphys?” Papyrus’ voice was quiet, but it silenced her. It sounded uncharacteristically… broken. Something was wrong. Alphys felt unease begin to ache in the pit of her stomach.

“Papyrus, what is it?” For a moment, she only heard silence on the other end. She was about to ask again when Papyrus finally spoke.

“Alphys, Undyne is dead.”

She did not hear the rest of what he said. He was telling her what had happened. Who had ended her. She couldn’t process it. Undyne couldn’t be dead. There was no one who could defeat her. No.

No.

“Alphys?” Papyrus had finished. He sounded almost timid. She had never told him, but she knew he knew how she felt about Undyne. That was why he was the one to tell her. “Are you okay?”

“I have to go.”

“Alphys—“ but she lowered the phone and pressed the ‘end call’ button. She slowly set the phone down on her desk. She stood there, still, one hand still resting on the phone, for a long moment.

Then, she began to scream.

##### 

III – Be seeing you.

_I KNOW WHAT YOU DID._

Alphys read the words and felt sick to her stomach. The floor seemed to tilt. She sank to her knees.

How? She had hidden everything so well. Who had found out? Who had snuck into her lab and planted this note in the _trash can?_

It had to be some sort of prank. That was the only explanation. Mettaton could be so mean-spirited sometimes. The note was so vague it could be about anything. Or maybe it was Undyne. She loved playing jokes.

She knew it wasn’t. Her secret was out.

What was she to do? Her world was mangled and gone. Everything she had built amounted to nothing. Nobody would respect her. They would despise her. She had destroyed their loved ones. She was disgusting.

_us soon do you think im pretty_

She could hear one of them laughing. That horrible, twisted voice sending peals and screams into the heavy air. She felt its infinite eyes on the back of her neck, watching, waiting. She did not turn. The effort could have very well killed her by itself, without the aid of what she would find behind her.

She felt the weight of her sins crawling on her back and all at once she made her decision.

There was simply no reason anymore.

Slowly, she crumpled the note up in her fist and turned. She was not at all surprised to find nothing there. The only sounds as she walked to the elevator were her footfalls and her measured, even breathing.

One of them was in the elevator. She didn't know if it was real, but she could feel its accusing gaze. As the elevator rose, she felt it becoming triumphant. She exited into her main lab. As the elevator doors closed, the thing inside began to cackle, emitting loud, screeching bursts from its thousand mouths.

_then hold still youll be with us sh0Rtly,_

She deposited the note in the trashcan by her desk. When she looked, there was another, identical note already there. She did not know why, but this did not surprise her.

She had so much she hadn’t done. She had never been in the caves. She had never eaten one of Grillby’s hamburgers. She’d never told Undyne everything she’d been meaning to say. She knew now she never would. She didn’t know how that revelation was supposed to make her feel, but she was only full of emptiness.

She began to search for what she needed.

##### 

iv – Just a moment.

Mettaton had been gone for three days. He had locked the door. Why had he locked the door? She could have prevented what had happened in that room if she only could have _gotten inside._

She had found him in the aftermath. He hadn’t been dead yet, but he was close. She had rushed to him and embraced him, feeling the weak, erratic rise and fall of his chest.

She had asked him what he had been thinking and he had laughed.

He told her that he’d wanted to kill the human. The human had hurt so many people and the human was going to destroy the world of monsters and humans.

She didn’t believe it. She said he was wrong. She told him to hold on, to refuse to die. She needed him to stay.

He laughed again. _Darling,_ he said, _dying isn’t so bad._

She began to cry. She told him he was the only friend she had left. She couldn’t bear to lose him. She wouldn’t be able to go on.

He told her she must. He said she shouldn’t have to live for other people — she herself was enough. They hugged tighter.

Suddenly, he clutched her lab coat and drew their faces very close, so their noses almost touched. He looked her directly in the eyes and she knew this was his end. He took a breath, preparing to speak.

_The human killed Undyne._ With these words, he released his final breath and died.

Now, three days later, Alphys stood on the edge of the falls in the dump, in the same spot where she met Undyne. It made her feel at home for many reasons. She stared over the edge, at the point where the water disappeared into the blackness. A cold wind blew up into her face.

She wanted to throw herself off, to give herself up to that cold darkness and cease to be. The world would be better off. She knew she was worthless. She thought of everyone in her life and knew that she weighed them down.

But she thought of Mettaton’s words. What did she have to live for? What would happen if she died? It was only a matter of time before they discovered what she was hiding in her basement. She had saved her journals. They would figure out what she had done and everyone in the Underground would know. What would happen to her memory? Her reputation would be ruined.

She knew she was fundamentally horrible, but that didn’t mean that anyone else had to. If it meant that no one would know what she had done, she would go on living. It was all she had left.

She would live for herself, just like Mettaton said.

Slowly, she stood up from the edge, newly careful and wary of the drop. She walked back to her lab, taking a deep breath before she went inside.

##### 

V – That’s a shame.

She stood on the edge of the upper level of the lab. She had never built a railing — she wasn’t afraid of heights and it was only ten feet, anyway. Now, it would be enough.

She curled her toes over the edge, looking at the floor below. She raised her eyes to look up. The lights were off and the ceiling was obscured by darkness. She knew there were pipes up there but she didn’t remember where they were. She had not tied the knot herself.

When she looked back down they were watching her, standing in a semicircle on the floor below. They were silent at first, but slowly they began laughing. It became a clamorous uproar, egging her on.

_It’s a R3AL Get together then H0LD ST1lL I’VE F3LT_  
_this before THATS what they ALL sAy_  
_STAY H3RE W1TH ME 1 R3M3MB3R loREM IPsUM_

She lowered the noose around her neck.

A hush fell over the space. They watched expectantly. One of them had provided the rope. Another had tied the knot. The rest had just been waiting to see the fruits of their efforts.

Alphys began to count down from ten. She decided if someone reached out to her before she got to zero, she would step back. She would stay alive. If she was worth anything to someone, maybe it was worth it.

She spoke the numbers slowly under her breath. Ten. Nine.

_You’ll be one of us soon._

Did she care if anybody stopped her? Maybe. She couldn’t really tell what she wanted to happen. Seven. Six.

_I… remem… ber…_

It could be anyone, but their window was closing. Four. Three.

_Welcome to my special hell._

She closed her eyes. The last moment seemed to hang suspended, waiting for something or someone to disturb it.

But nobody came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one turned out to be longer than the Mettaton chapter by about 150 words. Huzzah.
> 
> This one was a challenge to write, mainly because it goes to the darkest emotional places and those aren't all that fun to explore.
> 
> Take the behavior of the amalgamates as you will. I know it deviates from their behavior in-game but that was intentional.
> 
> Originally, parts ii and iv didn't exist, but in-game the note is always there on a pacifist playthrough, but Alphys is only implied to commit suicide if Undyne is killed and Mettaton either dies or abandons her (to rule the Underground), so I needed to make sure those two conditions were met.
> 
> Three major character deaths in one entry. I must really be doing a number on y'all's heartstrings.
> 
> Also, the formatting on this one was lots of fun to figure out. If I made any mistakes, please let me know. This project has been my first time working with HTML and I'm still learning the ropes.
> 
> We're nearing the end now. The last part isn't finished yet, but I'll try to release it on Wednesday, to make this release period a round two weeks. The next one is the only one that seemed fitting for the end to this project, and that's the only clue you're getting.


	7. Asriel

It was quiet in the Underground. Asriel had never experienced such quiet before. Not a single soul moved in the entire vast expanse, in any direction as far as he could see. He was well and truly alone.

Good.

Everyone had left. The barrier had come down and they’d made it to the surface. Frisk had wanted him to join them in the world above, but he refused. If he joined them, he knew he would eventually kill them all. In that moment, he didn’t want to do that.

He was surprised he still felt that. As a matter of fact, he was surprised he still felt. He didn’t expect it to take this long for him to change back — this form was meant to be temporary. He almost wished the transformation would happen sooner. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

He felt the time flowing around him, running smoother than it had since he could remember. It had taken him a while to get used to, but he’d had many changes at once then. He could feel it effortlessly now, knew how it felt when it stopped and when it reversed, returning to a place it had been before and washing back over itself, erasing old erosion and replacing it with new reality. For a long time, he hadn’t known why it did what it did, but when he met Frisk it made sense. He had a feeling he wouldn’t sense a reversal any time soon.

He sat in the middle of the flower patch near his mother’s new home and stared at the light filtering from the hole above. He wondered which patch of sky he was looking at, what surrounded the puncture in the earth. He knew it was the only real sky he would ever see, so he made sure to ingrain it in his memory.

He remembered his old life, his friend who he found on the same flower patch where he now sat. He remembered playing with them, all their fun little games. Chara had had an incredible imagination — even as a child he could recognize that. He never would have been able to come up with the stories they told and acted out. He never would have thought to do the things they had done.

He remembered their death and his own. How the humans had screamed, in anger and in fear. He felt the sharp prick of the arrows and the blades biting into his skin, tearing him apart. He felt Chara, carrying and shielding him all the way back to his home. He felt the warm comfort of his bed and heard his mother weeping as if from a distance as the world blurred and faded away.

He remembered waking up, himself but not. He remembered the smell of the flowers and how the plants had seemed impossibly tall. He remembered crying, calling for his father, and how the ground shook around him when the king approached. He remembered the look on his father’s face. He remembered realizing that it didn’t make him feel anything.

He remembered everything that came after, every last detail.

The jig was up. He was shocked out of memory by a feeling like bile rising in his throat. He had never felt it before, but he knew it was signaling that the time was near.

He stood and moved into the darkness. When he changed, he didn’t want to sully the spot too much with whatever he became. He didn’t know if he would become the abomination that was Flowey immediately, or if it would take him time to rediscover the violence and evil the same as before, but he didn’t want to take the risk.

He wondered if he should sit, but decided to face what was to come standing. He felt it was more dignified.

To his surprise, it still seemed a little ways off. He began to count to pass the time — there wasn’t really anything else to do. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, almost wishing he could get it over with.

Then, all at once, it was upon him. When he imagined it, he knew it would be a disorienting and frightening experience.

He didn’t expect it to hurt.

He screamed as he felt himself being compacted into something smaller and his self being ripped away from him. He heard his bones crunch and felt his mind warp as he shrank, incredibly quickly but much too slowly, into the smaller form.

It was unbearable. He clawed at his arms and his eyes, wanting to end it. He desperately reached out to the current of time, trying to reverse it, to forcibly turn it back. He had done it before when he as Flowey attempted to end the world, but now he found that no matter how hard he tried he could not. Time blundered inexorably forward and he remained in agony.

With nowhere else to turn, he began to cry out.

“Mommy!” The tears streamed down his face as he drew closer to the ground. 

“Daddy!” He sobbed, but the tears were coming less and less as the familiar feeling of emptiness encroached upon his mind. With the last bit of self he had, he screamed once more.

“Somebody help me!”

But nobody came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you didn't expect this to end on a light note.
> 
> I wrote almost all of this in one rush about two hours ago, so please forgive any vaguenesses or subject/verb agreement issues (or point them out so I can correct them)!
> 
> Well, this is the final chapter. I hope you enjoyed this project as much as I did. What did you think? How well did you enjoy it? I love feedback!
> 
> If you liked it, I might try something similar with a different set of characters sometime in the future.
> 
> Thank you for reading along!

**Author's Note:**

> This is an anthology. When it's completed, all the chapters put together won't tell a complete, cohesive story. Some of them will relate to each other, but they take place in several different universes, depending on which storyline gives each character the shortest end of the stick.
> 
> I'll update character tags and such as chapters are added, to avoid unintentional spoilers.
> 
> Some vignettes may be stylistically different from others, because this is my first post here and I'm trying things out.
> 
> I'm not sure how frequently I'm going to release chapters, but they won't be spaced too far apart. I hope you enjoy them!


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